


Memories

by amuk



Category: Mahou Shoujo Madoka Magika | Puella Magi Madoka Magica
Genre: Community: 31_days, Death, Family, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Gen, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Loss, Moving On
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-24
Updated: 2013-01-24
Packaged: 2017-11-26 17:08:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/652525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amuk/pseuds/amuk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is a hollow spot where one used to be three and missing used to be found.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Memories

**Author's Note:**

> This is kind of a "Missing person" set of drabbles. Everyone's take on what happens after. Two parts might not be all that good--I was falling asleep while writing Kyoko's piece and Homura's.
> 
> Prompt/Theme: January 15 // all my dreams turned blue

He dreams of a violin, of the wooden bow resting in his finger tips. He slides it across the strings, his fingers shifting as the notes change, and each digs into his hand, the feeling memorized from a thousand times before.

  
The crowd breaks out in applause after—loud and overwhelming and he fights back a smile. It's harder when he can see a green head nearby, an earnest gaze. The violin is warm in his hands, heavy and warm and he thinks it’s amazing that he can hold it again. Amazing that he can run his fingers down its curves and edges, feel the music that escapes his fingers as it had done all his life.  
  
The applause grows even louder when he bows. Kyosuke doesn't bother to hide the smile now—he has never received such attention before.  
  
Only from her--and instinctively he knows, even if he can't see her, Sayaka is there. Somewhere, she is watching, somewhere she is cheering. It's not a good feeling, not a bad one either, just a memory of--he can see a window, a breeze blowing from it—and the crowd starts to die down. An encore, they shout—  
  
It is to a moonless night he wakes up, the night air cool on his cheeks. He reaches up, feels the salty tears staining them, and tries to stop himself from crying once more.  
  
A painful dream, a hopeless dream. He should give up.  
  
"Sayaka," he whispers once more, looking out the window.  
  
For tonight, he allows himself to hope.

  
  
-x-

  
Hitomi holds her bag in her arms, the path to school silent and empty for once. Sayaka is missing--missing is the official word but she has been gone for two months and missing is now a code for dead. Deceased. Murdered. Forever gone.  
  
Perhaps she shouldn't have mentioned Kyosuke to her. Perhaps she should have waited. There are so many things she should or shouldn't have done—just which one could have stopped this from happening? There is no blue bobbing beside her, no amused remarks to entertain her as they trudge to school.  
  
No lunches—she sits alone now and where there were three, there is only one now.  
  
She stops at that thought, blinks it away. Two. Not three. Two.  
  
And she looks behind her, over her shoulder, she thinks it wouldn't be too hard to imagine a third person there, running behind her in an effort to keep up.

  
-x-

There isn't a grave. A body isn't actually found and Sayaka's distraught mother refuses to believe her daughter is dead. Kyoko instead visits the church that began it all whenever she feels like remembering and she carries the bag of apples with her every time.  
  
"Stupid girl," she mutters as she sits in the ruins, the apple crunching under her teeth. "Shouldn't have gotten so worked up over a stupid boy."  
  
As though that boy was all that important. As though Kyoko wasn't important. They were becoming friends, dammit.  
  
She bites another one, tossing the core of the last. A string of curses exits her mouth as she goes through the bag, her tears falling unnoticed to the church floor.  
  
As she tosses the last core, she dusts her hands, ignoring the wetspot on the ground. "Next time we meet, be happy if you can crawl away," she promises, the barren building looking darker with each word.  
  
She crumples the bag as she exits, tossing it on the ground. The apples were bitter in her throat.

  
-x-

She sometimes wishes she had another child. A daughter, perhaps, just so she could dress her up and impart her fashion wisdom. A small girl, with eager eyes and open ears. If she asked, she's sure her husband wouldn't mind trying for another. They're stable enough to support another child.  
  
Junko rests a hand on her flat stomach, remembering the curve of the bump and the occasional kicks. She's fourty-two now, in the middle of her career, and she doesn't think she could go through another pregnancy at this stage of her life. It's hard as it is to get up for her son when he cries in the middle of the night--two babies would be impossible.  
  
"Madoka," Tatsuya shouts, his stick tracing a figure once more. She crouches beside him, watching the face emerge, the short pigtails.  
  
A cute girl. Red ribbons would look good one her.  
  
He looks at her, cocking his head in question.  
  
"Madoka," she agrees. That would have been a nice name.

  
-x-

  
Homura can feel the image fading sometimes, like well-worn photograph. Sometimes all she can see of Madoka are the bright eyes, the soft hair. The strange shapes of the witches. All that's left is the ribbon in her hair and Homura is scared that she'll forget.  
  
She can't. She can't. She's the only one who remembers and if she forgets, it'll really be like Madoka never existed. Like her warm hands and kind smile never existed.  
  
It's almost a panic attack, the fear that runs through her paralyzing her. There is a whisper in her ears,  _thank you, I'm sorry, my best friend._  
  
A whisper that goes with delicate pink hair, the endless ruffles of her skirt. Homura grabs the ribbon out of her hair, twisiting the solid object as she calms down.  
  
She won't forget. Homura reties the ribbon now, pulling her hair back. No, she won't forget. How can she, when they are best friends?  
  
Madoka is waiting for her at the end of all this and she can only do her best to make sure this world is what she wanted.

  
-x-

Mami sets the tea pot on the table, steam rising out of the pot as she did so. Homura and Kyoko sit across from where she stands, already going over a division of work. Smiling at them, she returns to the kitchen to grab the cups and saucers, balancing them on a tray with the sugar and milk.  
  
She places one cup in front of Homura, the other Kyoko. The last goes in front of her and she pours the tea out now as they watch.  
  
"You have too many cups," Kyoko points out with a pained smile. Glancing down, she sees the two extra cups sitting there, the tea already poured in them.  
  
"Ah." One for Sayaka, she knows, but why another? She must have miscounted.  
  
"We can just leave it like that," Homura suggests and the expression she wears is something Mami has seen for weeks now. It's lonely and determined and she doesn't quite understand what  has solicited this change in the girl.  
  
"Leave..." she looks at the two extra cups, at the five in total. It looks good, like she has all the parts, and she nods. "I think we can do that."


End file.
